In 2009 when Foley founded the Tanner Brigade neither of us had the room in our kitty condo’s) for the servers to support the traffic created by our friends. We needed partners.
Foley investigated various services and decided to pair with a group called Ning. Ning stood for Nice Internet (Not Great.) I was skeptical because weasels ran the site Foley said cost wise this was the best solution, and she could handle the weasels. She scheduled a meeting. We met in a dumpster behind the 7-11. We met with three weasels, all wearing raincoats and fedoras, I began shaking.
They told Foley their service worked intermittently, that they seldom had representatives to handle complaints, and they were only in it for the money. Foley calmly explained that she represented a conglomerate of dogs who would hunt them down and bite them in their tails if they did not cooperate. To my surprise, the weasels capitulated to a little Yorkie.
The site functioned for years with little problem. If one of our members was dissatisfied Foley was not afraid to go to the weasel dumpster and set them straight; Out of respect to her legacy, the weasels keep the site running with the same proficiency when she went to the Bridge.
Lately, the site has not run correctly. Several of my friends can not get on the site, or were only allowed on to certain parts. I sent the weasels several sweet notes telling them about our issues with no response. I had to go to the dumpster.
I met them at midnight on a rainy night. They were smoking cigarettes and drinking cheap gin. I told them about our dissatisfaction with their recent efforts. They snickered. “Is that right pussycat?” one of them growled.
I stressed the problems we were having, and we would very much appreciate their investigating the matter. This was met with the suggestion that I am taken out behind the dumpster and drowned in a puddle.
The weasels grabbed me. I knew I shouldn’t have come here without Foley. I not only had let my friend down, but now I was going to get a puddle bath. Then I heard a growling sound from the dumpster lid. We turned, and we saw this face:
The weasels let me go The tallest one peed a little The other two promised that they would upgrade their servers and solve all our problems. They made me promise they would never have to see that face again.
Somedays I am so happy I have sisters.